


Waiting

by CelesteFitzgerald



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Desperation, Dom!Ringo, Established Relationship, M/M, Omorashi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Sub!George, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22195180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteFitzgerald/pseuds/CelesteFitzgerald
Summary: After having a bit too much liquid to drink one evening, George finds himself in an, ahem,accidental situation. Unfortunately, his boyfriend watches the whole thing unfold, and George is filled with embarrassment. But as it turns out, watching George wet himself isn't a turn off for Ringo - quite the opposite, in fact.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Comments: 81
Kudos: 134





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I really wrote this. I've been wanting to write something like this for a while, but I finally got the courage to do it. There's been a couple different variations of the whole "wetting" thing floating around in the world of Beatles fanfiction recently, but I haven't yet found a fic with this exact theme. (If you know of one, please link it to me!) So here it is. Make sure you read over the tags so you know what you're in for before you read this.

George was having the time of his life. How could he not be? He was spending a relaxing evening with his boyfriend in the flat they shared, passing the time with drinks, laughter, and kisses. He felt like nothing could go wrong.

Everything felt so perfect, and George just wanted to savor every moment—so much so that he didn’t even want to leave to go to the bathroom, even though he really _should_ have gone, considering all the beer and water he’d been drinking. But if he got up, then he’d have to let go of Ringo’s hand and look away from Ringo’s beautiful eyes.

So, against his better judgement, George crossed his legs and stayed on the couch. The pressure kept building up in his bladder, but he didn’t care—not when Ringo was telling him all about how pissed Paul had gotten earlier that day when John had messed up his hair.

“…and Paul was glaring at John so bad when he was trying to brush his hair back down, but then John fluffed it back up again,” Ringo said, laughing as he spoke. Usually, George loved listening to Ringo’s laugh, but Ringo’s giggles began shaking the couch, making George press his legs together even tighter.

“…and Paul couldn’t get his hair to stay in place anymore,” Ringo finished.

“Oh god,” George said. “I guess that’s why I saw that little piece of his hair sticking out to the side.”

“Yeah—it was like that all fucking day,” Ringo said. “Please tell me you pointed it out to him and teased him about it?”

“I wish I had,” George said with a sigh.

“Dammit, George, don’t let me down like this,” Ringo said in fake anger.

George couldn’t help but start laughing at that—he also couldn’t help the small dribble that leaked out of him. He looked down at his lap in panic. Luckily, he had regained control before any real damage had been done—nothing had leaked through the front of his pants. He just needed to get to the bathroom as fast as possible—

But Ringo kept talking. “I swear, one day, I wanna break into his house while he sleeps and shave off all his hair—god, can you imagine his face? Can you imagine his _head?_ ”

At that mental image, George burst into laughter again. The vision of bald Paul filled his head until he couldn’t focus on anything else—or rather, _forgot_ to focus on something else very important.

By the time George realized what was happening, it was too late. Pee was already spilling out of him and soaking into his pants. He desperately tried to stop the flow, but it just kept going and going, running down his legs and pooling onto the couch cushion beneath him.

“George? Is something…wrong…?”

Ringo’s voice snapped George back to the present, and he instinctively looked up to meet his boyfriend’s gaze…except Ringo wasn’t looking at George’s face.

Oh fuck.

Oh, _fuck_.

Before Ringo could open his mouth again, George jumped up from the couch. He finally managed to hold the rest in as he sprinted toward the bathroom. He slammed the door shut, unbuttoned his pants, and released what was left into the toilet. A feeling of relief finally flooded over him as he emptied himself.

Then, as quickly as the relief had come, the shame set in. Not only had he just wet himself, but he had wet himself in front of his _boyfriend_ —and probably ruined their couch in the process. George looked down at his pants and saw the massive dark splotch that covered more area than it left untouched. God, what had happened would have been unmistakable to anyone watching. Ringo knew, he fucking _knew_ , and the thought made George want to cry.

George just wanted to disappear and forget that it had ever happened, but the moist warmth on his legs was a constant reminder that it was all too real. He needed to get out of those clothes. As quickly as he could, George peeled off his pants and socks and took off his shirt before jumping in the shower and turning the temperature up as hot as it could go as though it could melt away his embarrassment. But by the time he had finished scrubbing his body with soap—twice—he still felt just as shitty as before.

He shut off the water and grabbed his towel, drying himself vigorously. If only he could enjoy the feeling of being dry. As he stood there with only a towel wrapped around him, he felt so vulnerable—he needed to get dressed. Hopefully Ringo hadn’t ventured into their bedroom to confront George.

George cracked open the bathroom door and was grateful to see that Ringo was nowhere in sight. He stepped fully into their bedroom and changed into some fresh clothes.

Then he sat on the bed, buried his head in his hands, and tried to figure out what to do next.

How was he supposed to face Ringo after this? Ringo would either be so disgusted that he’d never want to kiss George again, or he’d laugh so hard that George would never be able to hear Ringo’s laugh again without reliving this disaster. Or, if George was lucky, maybe Ringo would be kind enough to pretend that it had never happened and they could spend the rest of their lives never mentioning the massive, wet elephant in the room…except George’s mess was still all over the couch, and they couldn’t very well ignore _that_ —

 _Knock knock_.

“Georgie? Are you alright?”

George stared at the door in terrified silence, hoping that Ringo would give up and walk away.

“…George? Please, George. You don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s alright. It could have happened to anyone.”

Silence.

“I cleaned off the couch and the floor. Everything’s fine.”

 _Oh god, it got on the floor, too?_ George thought as he took a shaky breath and tried to hold back the new wave of tears that were welling up in his eyes.

“Shit, don’t cry, love,” Ringo said. He opened the door and rushed over to George’s side. “Shh, I’ve got you,” Ringo whispered as he wrapped his arms around George and kissed his cheek. “Talk to me, Georgie. What’s wrong?”

George squeezed his eyes shut. “What d’you mean, ‘what’s wrong?’ You saw it happen—you know exactly what’s wrong,” he muttered.

“No, there’s nothing wrong with that. Accidents happen.”

“Yeah, to babies. Not to grown-arse men.” The tears spilled out onto George’s cheeks. Great—one more thing over which he had lost control. He was pathetic.

“Hey.” Ringo turned George’s face toward him and brushed away his tears with his thumbs. “If you think I’m gonna treat you any different because of this, you’re wrong. You’re still the same wonderful man I fell in love with.”

George choked back another sob. “Why? That was disgusting.”

“Nah,” Ringo said. “It’s practically water. And like I said—it’s all clean now.”

“…You’re really not upset?” George asked.

“I’m really not,” Ringo said with a smile.

Overwhelmed by how understanding his boyfriend was, George gave him another hug. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Don’t you dare start that again,” Ringo said. “You deserve all the best things in the world—any fool can see that.”

George laughed against Ringo. “Thank you—but you really didn’t have to clean up that mess.”

“It was no trouble,” Ringo shrugged.

“You’re incredible,” George said. “But honestly, how are you not even a little bit grossed out by this?”

Ringo’s eyes widened for a split second before he looked away—and George could have sworn there was a hint of blush on his cheeks. “Oh—no, it’s nothing,” Ringo said quickly. “Where are your clothes? We should get those washed, too.”

“Ritchie.” George grabbed his wrist to stop him from standing up. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying—”

“Well, you’re definitely hiding the truth,” George said. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“It’s not important,” Ringo insisted, but he still wasn’t making eye contact.

George huffed. “If it wasn’t important, then you wouldn’t be so worried about telling me.”

Looking down at his hands, Ringo fiddled with his rings. “You’ll think I’m sick.”

“No, I won’t,” George said, taking Ringo’s hands in his. “If you’re not judging me for what happened tonight, then I won’t judge you for whatever this is. I promise.”

Ringo bit his lip. “I’m not sure that’s a promise you’re prepared to keep, but I appreciate the gesture.” He paused for a breath. “When I tell you this, I don’t expect you to understand. But just…listen.”

“Of course,” George said, squeezing Ringo’s hands.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Ringo took one last deep breath before speaking. “For a half hour leading up to…that, I noticed you squirming around a bit. I didn’t think much of it at first, but then you started doing it more. And then you started laughing really hard, and you just let go…and it was….”

Ringo cleared his throat as the blush on his face grew darker. “The way that you were trying to hold it in, but then you slipped up and made a mess all over yourself and your clothes…it was kinda…hot.”

George blinked. “Um…I don’t think I caught the end of that.”

“God, you’re really gonna make me say it again?” Ringo said, wincing. “I said it was hot, sexy—it turned me on. Is that clear enough for you?”

All of George’s logic was telling him that Ringo was just pulling his leg, but as he watched the way Ringo shrunk away from him as he waited for a response, he knew that Ringo was serious. “Oh,” George said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s, um…unique?”

“‘Unique’ tells me nothing, George—”

“I know,” George said, grabbing Ringo’s arm and sliding his thumb across the smooth skin. “I promised I wouldn’t judge, and I’m keeping my promise. I suppose this worked out pretty well for me—you’re probably the one person who _wouldn’t_ judge me for pissing myself, huh?”

Ringo let out a short, breathy laugh, and the corners of his mouth started to turn upward again. “It, ah, worked out pretty well for me, too.”

George outwardly smiled back at him while his mind reeled as it tried to process everything Ringo had said. He couldn’t imagine how Ringo could possibly find something like that attractive, but then again, plenty of people were into some much weirder shit. As long as Ringo wasn’t secretly a serial killer planning to kill him, George would love him no matter what.

“Come here,” George said, pulling Ringo in for a deep kiss. “Thank you for being so wonderful to me tonight—and for opening up to me.”

“I’d do anything for you, you know that,” Ringo said.

“Yeah,” George said, kissing him again. “Speaking of doing anything….” George didn’t know how to ask this, but he knew it needed to be said. “Since this is something that you like, do you…want me to do that again or something?”

“Oh—you don’t have to do that for me,” Ringo said quickly.

“But if—”

“George. It doesn’t matter how much I like it—if it makes you that uncomfortable, we’re not doing it.”

“I wouldn’t mind—”

“You physically cringed when you asked me if I wanted you to do it again. You definitely _would_ mind,” Ringo said.

George hadn’t realized that he’d displayed his feelings so obviously. “I didn’t mean to cringe—and I wasn’t cringing at _you_. I’ve just never even considered something like this before. But if this is something you enjoy, then let’s not take it off the table. We can talk about it more, and I can work on understanding what you like about it. Then maybe, if I’m comfortable with it, we can try…I don’t know, whatever it is that you like…do you want me to piss on you or something?”

“ _No!_ ” Ringo practically shouted. “I mean—sorry—that’s, ah, different from what I want. I just…really like the idea of you wetting yourself…I may have fantasized about it before, but never in a million years did I think I’d actually get to see it happen.”

“Huh,” George said. He had to admit, he was a bit relieved. Even if Ringo had said that he liked it, George really didn’t like the idea of whipping it out and peeing all over his boyfriend. “How would those fantasies of yours go?” George asked.

“…Do you really want to talk about this?” Ringo asked.

“Yeah. What have you got to lose here, Ritchie? If I don’t like it, then at least you’ll know that you don’t have to keep secrets from me. And if I do like it,” George said, leaning in to kiss Ringo’s neck and whisper against his ear, “all of your wildest fantasies might come true.”

Ringo let out a shuddering breath. “Alright then,” he said gruffly. “Well, it usually starts with you drinking a lot of water—obviously. And then you start getting the urge to, you know…pee.”

George nodded, encouraging him to continue. Even though Ringo had apparently been thinking about this for a while, he was still having a difficult time talking about it—and George didn’t want Ringo to be afraid to talk to him.

“Maybe the toilet’s broken or something so you can’t use it, or….” Ringo swallowed. “Maybe I tell you that you’re not allowed to use the toilet.”

As Ringo kept talking, George felt his heart beat faster.

“And then you start to squirm around as the urge gets stronger, and you let out a bunch of little whines and gasps, and your legs start to shake as you keep trying to hold it in.” Ringo let out a couple of gasps himself as he dove further into his imagination. “But then it’s too much, and you can’t physically stop it, and it all comes pouring out, and then the relief feels so good that you give up on trying to stop it and just let it happen, and oh god.” When he stopped talking, Ringo clutched at the side of the bed and breathed heavily.

The idea that Ringo was suggesting was so foreign to George, but _damn_ , George was feeling hot just watching Ringo’s expressions as he talked about it. And, in a way, the way Ringo described the building up of pressure in the bladder followed by its release almost resembled an orgasm. The whole idea was new to George, but maybe it wasn’t as unusual as he had first thought.

As George looked back over at Ringo to tell him what he thought, he couldn’t help but notice the obvious change in Ringo’s pants. _Good lord_ , Ringo had gotten hard from just _talking_ about it. George laughed slightly as he moved his hand to rest on top of Ringo’s bulge. “You _really_ like that idea, don’t you?” George teased as he rubbed Ringo’s crotch.

Gasping, Ringo nodded.

“Hmm,” George said as he kept moving his hand. “I think that could be arranged.”

Ringo’s eyes shot up to meet George’s. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Moaning, Ringo swung his leg around and seated himself on George’s lap, grinding down on him. “You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met, George,” he said before showering George’s neck with kisses. “If you really try this for me, even if you hate it and never want to do it again, I’ll do anything you want—whatever your wildest sex dream is, I’ll do it.”

“Ritchie— _ah_ —you don’t have to.”

“But I want to. Please. Let me,” Ringo said as he ran his hand all over George’s chest.

“…I guess I’d be a fool to say no to that,” George said, grinding his hips upward.

Ringo giggled against George’s neck and began sucking lightly on the soft skin.

George finally lost himself in the sensations. For tonight, they’d just stick to what they knew—they’d have plenty of time to try out Ringo’s new idea later.

Still, George would be lying if he said he wasn’t a _little_ excited for what Ringo had in store for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot woot, chapter 1 done! My plan is to keep writing new chapters for as long as I have the inspiration for new situations for them to play around with, where each chapter corresponds to 1 sexy time, haha. There will be a very vague/general plot going through the whole story focusing on the two of them getting more experienced with desperation play, but the plot definitely isn't going to be the main focus.


	2. Chapter 2

From the outside, it would have looked just like any normal dinner. George and Ringo casually ate their soup and sipped their water, with Ringo occasionally standing up to get George a refill. But George ate much more quietly than usual.

“George?”

George froze with his glass of water on his lips.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ringo asked.

“Yes,” George said before drinking a big gulp of water, polishing off his third glass that night. “Dinner was delicious,” he said to change the topic.

Ringo nodded in silence. He stood up and placed his dishes in the sink, then he grabbed George’s dishes. The bowl went into the sink with Ringo’s, but Ringo held onto George’s glass—and grabbed the pitcher of water from the fridge.

“Oh—I don’t know…” George began nervously. “I’m, ah, not really thirsty anymore.”

But Ringo didn’t set the water down. “Are you sure you don’t want a bit more?”

George shifted awkwardly in his seat, pressing his legs together. He had already had so much—he didn’t know if he could take anymore. …But that was the point, he reminded himself. This was what Ringo wanted. George bit his lip. “Maybe a little more.”

A grin flickered across Ringo’s face for a split second as he poured one last glass of water for George. The sound of the stream of water falling into the glass was torture—George pressed his thighs together even harder.

Ringo walked back to the table and took a seat right next to George. “Here you go, love,” he said, offering the glass to George. When George hesitated, Ringo added, “You don’t have to finish this glass. Drink as much as you’re comfortable with.”

“Alright. Thanks,” George whispered as he took the glass and raised it to his lips. He carefully took a few more sips, meeting Ringo’s eyes as he did so. With each sip, Ringo’s cheeks turned redder and redder, and the sight made George smirk as he drank.

After finishing half the glass, George set the rest back on the table. “I think that’s enough for now,” he said.

Ringo let out a deep sigh. “God, Georgie, you’re doing so good,” he said, leaning off his chair to give George a kiss.

George happily returned the kiss. “Don’t praise me too much—I’ve hardly done anything yet. I might mess it up later.”

“But that’s the beauty of it,” Ringo said, running his hand up George’s thigh. “The mistakes are the best parts.”

“ _A-ah_ ,” George gasped as Ringo squeezed his leg. “Careful, Ritchie.”

Ringo released his grip on George, but he didn’t stop staring up and down George’s body.

Clearing his throat, George spoke up. “Do you want to move to the couch and watch some television?” If he was going to last much longer, George would need a distraction.

“Onto the carpet?” Ringo said as he stood up and began circling around to the back of George. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” He wrapped his hands around George and slid one down to rest on the front of his stomach. “You know, considering your current…,” he pressed down, “…situation.”

As Ringo put more pressure on his bladder, George felt a new wave of desperation rush over him. A noise that could only be described as a whimper escaped George’s mouth as one of his hands flew down to grab at his crotch to help him hold it in. “Ritchie— _oh god_ —Ritchie—please—I can’t.”

After one more unbearable second, Ringo stopped pushing on George’s bladder and walked back around in front of him. George sighed in relief as he looked up at Ringo’s face—Ringo’s very concerned face. “Was that too much?” Ringo asked. “Give me a color.”

They had agreed on a system for Ringo to check how George was doing, based on the colors of a stoplight. Green meant ‘keep going,’ yellow meant ‘slow down a little,’ and red meant ‘stop.’ Keeping his hand firmly against the front of his pants, George whispered, “Yellow. I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” Ringo said, brushing George’s bangs out of his eyes. “I’m sorry for pushing you so much…literally.”

George laughed—then instantly regretted it when the vibrations made the urge to pee even stronger. He squeezed his eyes shut as he focused on keeping it in. “I don’t understand it,” George said. “I drank that last glass less than ten minutes ago,” he said, glancing at the half-finished glass on the kitchen table. “How did it go through me already?”

“…It probably hasn’t yet,” Ringo said.

“You mean it’s gonna keep getting _harder_ to do this?” George asked, the pitch of his voice rising. “God, Ritchie, I don’t—I don’t think I can do it.”

At those words, Ringo gave George a very strange wide-eyed look, as though he was feeling pity for George while simultaneously feeling the deepest arousal he’d ever experienced. “Can I see something?” Ringo asked in a very low voice. He lightly touched George’s wrist and tried to move his hand away from his crotch, but George resisted. “Please, Georgie, just for a second.”

George wasn’t sure of his ability to hold it in without the help of his hand, but he let Ringo drag his hand away. Ringo sucked in a breath as he looked at the front of George’s pants, even running the backs of his fingertips across the fabric for a second. “You’re still completely dry,” Ringo said. “You’re doing so good, George. You’re so good, so strong.”

George couldn’t decide if he loved or hated the way Ringo licked his lips as he stared. “I’m not sure how much longer—”

“You don’t have to wait forever,” Ringo said. “Try to hold it a little longer. Don’t go until I tell you that you can go. And if you can hold it for as long as I tell you to, maybe I’ll reward you.”

Despite the very obvious matter that was distracting George, the way that Ringo was talking to him stirred something deep within George. And _damn_ , he liked it. “Okay,” George said, nodding rapidly. “Green.”

“Huh?”

“ _Green_ ,” George repeated. He wanted to do this. He would do it, for Ringo. To drive the point home, he picked the glass back up from the table and chugged down a bit more. Then he crossed his legs tightly and devoted all of his strength to holding it in.

“Ah— _fuck_ , George, you didn’t have to,” Ringo choked out as he touched his own crotch, rubbing over the large tent that had formed. “God, you should see how beautiful you look right now, barely able to sit still… _fuck_.” Ringo gave in and undid his pants, pulling out his cock and stroking himself as he watched George.

George wished he could focus on the way Ringo touched himself, but with each passing second it became harder to hold in all the fluid inside of him. He clenched his fists and took lots of shallow, gasping breaths. He didn’t want to let Ringo down, he didn’t want to—

Suddenly, the pressure on George’s bladder grew even stronger, and he cried out as a small spurt came shooting out of him. He stopped the flow after a second, but he looked down to see a coin-sized wet spot on the front of his pants. “I’m sorry,” he began saying to Ringo, but he stopped talking when Ringo moaned—loudly.

“Oh, _god_ ,” Ringo said, picking up the pace of his strokes. “You’re incredible. At this rate, I might end up releasing everything before you do.”

“I don’t think I can make it much longer,” George whined. There was so much liquid in his bladder now that it was almost painful.

“Just a few more minutes, and I’ll let you go,” Ringo said between gasps.

Whining again, George nodded. He tried putting his hand over his crotch again, and he was grateful that Ringo wasn’t trying to stop him from doing it anymore. George’s legs started to shake from being pressed together for so long, and the movement made George leak again. This time, he could feel the growing wet spot against his hand—an awful reminder of how close he was to letting Ringo down. “Ritchie,” he pleaded, a couple tears starting to form in his eyes.

Ringo looked at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. “Tell me what you want, George.”

“I need to….”

“You need to what?”

God, Ringo was really making him ask for it. “Ritchie— _ah_ —please, _please_ —let me pee,” George begged.

Ringo let out another deep moan as his hips jerked upwards to meet his increasingly erratic strokes. “ _Go_ ,” he said. “Go, George.”

George lifted his hand and uncrossed his legs as he let his muscles relax, and a huge stream of piss began gushing out. It kept going and going, drenching his arse and running down his legs and onto the floor. It was so loud, and there was so much, and George felt like he should be disgusted by this but the relief was so strong that he didn’t give a damn. A few tears spilled out of his eyes, and yet he still wasn’t done peeing. It kept splashing onto the floor, and in that strange moment it was the most wonderful sound George had ever heard.

Until he heard Ringo. Ringo’s eyes were glued to George while his moans grew louder. He jerked his hand faster, and suddenly Ringo was crying out as he came from the sight of George.

Ringo worked himself through the end of his orgasm as George finished emptying his bladder all over himself. Leaning his head against the back of his chair and breathing heavily, George enjoyed the wonderful feeling of finally being able to _relax_. The fluid was warm against his legs, but it wasn’t an unpleasant warmth. He opened his eyes again to take in the scene—

Before George could do anything, Ringo’s lips were on his and Ringo’s hands were tangled in his hair. “George,” Ringo said against his mouth, “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. _Fuck_ , I can’t believe you really did that for me.”

George wrapped his clean hand around Ringo’s back and pulled him closer. “I can’t believe I actually started to enjoy that,” he whispered.

Ringo broke the kiss and looked at George. “You—wait—you did?”

Laughing quietly, George nodded. “I think I did.”

With a huge smile on his face, Ringo pulled George into a tight hug. “I must be dreaming right now—this is too good to be true.”

“Nah, it’s all very, very real,” George said.

“There aren’t enough words in the world to describe how amazing you are,” Ringo said, kissing George again. “And I meant what I said before. If there’s anything—and I mean _anything_ —that you’ve ever wanted to try in bed but were too worried to ask me about, we’ll do it. I wanna make you the happiest man in the world, Georgie.”

George laughed as he kissed Ringo back. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to make me any happier than you already have,” he said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I _really_ need a shower.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Ringo agreed.

Ringo helped George stand up, and George could feel more droplets running down his leg. “Holy shit,” he muttered, finally getting a good luck at the puddle he had made on the floor. _Did I really drink that much?_

“So, about that shower,” Ringo said with a smirk. “Mind if I join you?”

Linking hands with Ringo, George smiled. “I’d love that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins! I have several ideas of some other things they can do in the future, and I'm excited to write them out! Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter, especially those of you who don't typically read this kind of stuff but decided to give it a chance anyway <3


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a week since George had tried out Ringo’s idea, and much to his surprise, Ringo hadn’t yet asked to do it again. George thought he had made it clear that he was more than willing to continue experimenting with this new development in their sex life, but maybe Ringo was worried that George had only said that he liked it to make Ringo happy.

And speaking of making Ringo happy…

George had been even more surprised to realize how wonderful he felt when Ringo told him what to do—and when he saw how pleased Ringo was when George did as he was told. With most people, George couldn’t stand being bossed around, but he’d do anything Ringo asked of him in a heartbeat. Just the thought of Ringo denying and granting George permission to pee again made George hot.

George wanted to do it again. And he _really_ wanted Ringo to be stricter with him.

…And maybe he had a plan to convince Ringo that he enjoyed it.

The timing was perfect—Ringo was out running some errands, so George had the flat to himself for another hour. If he started drinking now, Ringo would have a very full surprise waiting for him when he arrived back at home. George changed into some lighter-colored pants that would make wet spots more visible, then he poured himself a glass of water and got to work.

He managed to drink a couple glasses pretty quickly, which may not have been his best idea. George already had to go, and it would be at least another half hour before Ringo got home. Stopping now would be the smartest decision, he thought, so he put the glass away and sat on the couch to read a book and wait for Ringo.

George waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally—fifteen minutes later than expected—keys jingled from the hallway and a few seconds later, Ringo walked through the front door. He set a few bags of groceries on the table as George carefully walked over to greet him.

“Welcome home, babe,” George said while he and Ringo met in an embrace.

Ringo pressed his lips against George’s and hummed. “You’re being awfully welcoming today,” he said when they broke the kiss. “What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing,” George said, but he couldn’t stop the way he tensed up from how tightly Ringo was holding their bodies together. If Ringo squeezed him much harder, his plan would be over in seconds. “I’m just happy to see you,” George said as he slipped out of Ringo’s grasp to lean back against the kitchen table, not-so-casually crossing one leg over the other.

Ringo gave him a strange look. “Sure you’re alright?”

George nodded and smiled. He wanted Ringo to come to the realization on his own so he could see the look on Ringo’s face when he figured out what George had done.

“Could you help me with the groceries?” Ringo asked as he got to work onloading one of the bags.

“…Sure,” George said. He picked up the bag nearest to him and carried it over to the refrigerator. After unloading the fruits and vegetables on top, he looked at the bottom of the bag. Of course, he just _had_ to have picked the bag that held their beer. Grimacing, he lifted the beer and placed it in the fridge, trying to ignore the way the liquid sloshed around inside the bottles. Then he stood up, turned around—and jumped when he saw Ringo right in front of him.

“Seriously, George—what’s wrong?”

“I told you, nothing— _ah!_ ” The pressure on George’s bladder suddenly grew, making him cry out and press his legs together.

“George!” Ringo said, rushing forward and grabbing George’s shoulders. “Are you hurt?”

George shook his head while he involuntarily bounced slightly on his feet.

“Then what the hell is going…on…?” Ringo’s eyes darted down to George’s stomach. Then his eyes widened and his cheeks grew darker. “…You _didn’t_.”

George smirked. “I _did_.”

As Ringo continued staring at George, the blush on his cheeks intensified and his breathing became heavier. “Oh…Oh, wow,” Ringo sighed. “God, I don’t…I can’t believe you really….”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this, Ritchie, but if you could speak a bit faster, I’d appreciate it,” George said as he kept fidgeting. It was getting harder and harder to hold it in.

Ringo ran his hands down George’s arms, sending shivers through George’s body. “How much did you drink?” Ringo asked.

“A couple glasses.”

“When did you drink it?”

“About an hour ago.”

Ringo practically moaned in response. “You’ve been holding for an _hour?_ ” He brought one hand in front of George’s bladder—not pushing, just moving his fingertips in tiny circles. “God, George, you’re doing so well for me.”

“ _Ah_ —tickles—careful,” George rambled, unable to put together a coherent sentence with such a strong urge to just let go.

Grinning, Ringo leaned in close and kissed from George’s collarbone up to his ear. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to make it harder for you.” He teasingly swirled his fingertips around George’s neck. “You just look so damn irresistible, I’m not sure I can keep my hands off you.”

George gasped as Ringo tickled him again, almost losing control. But George’s hand flew to his crotch just in time to stop himself from leaking.

“Oh my,” Ringo said. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” He released his grip on George to look down at George’s hand.

“I’m…holding?”

“No, no,” Ringo said, tapping George’s wrist. “You’re _cheating_. Move that hand so I can see more of that pretty little body of yours.”

All of George’s common sense told him that he wouldn’t make it much longer without the help of his hand, but making Ringo happy would always overrule his common sense. He took a deep breath and slowly moved his hand away. It was hard—and he definitely let out more than a couple embarrassing whines—but George managed to give Ringo a clear view of the front of his pants while also keeping his pants dry.

“Much better,” Ringo said. “Now, while we wait and see how long you can hold, why don’t we have some more fun?”

“W-what kind of fun?”

Ringo stepped toward him, then—leaving a small gap between their bodies—he drew George into another kiss. It didn’t take long for Ringo to deepen the kiss, and their lips and tongues slid together in the most wonderful ways.

The pressure on George’s bladder already had all his senses on full alert, and the additional stimulation from Ringo’s mouth was overwhelming. George pressed his thighs together as tightly as he could while he kept one hand tangled in Ringo’s shirt and the other in his hair.

But suddenly, he felt Ringo frown against his lips. Ringo let out a low hum of disapproval before wedging one of his feet in between George’s legs—no. There was no way he’d really do that. Would he?

Sure enough, Ringo’s leg slid forward, shoving George’s legs farther apart until he couldn’t keep his thighs together. There was almost nothing left to keep George from falling apart and peeing all over himself—and Ringo. But he had to hold it, he had to—

Ringo bit down on George’s lip, and the rush of pleasure filled George’s entire mind. He slipped up—it was only for a second, but a warm stream of piss leaked out of him. He gasped and jerked away from Ringo as he got his bladder back under control. “No, no, no,” he whispered as he looked down at the wet spot on the front of his pants.

“Aw, is Georgie having an accident?” Ringo asked much too happily.

“No,” George insisted, shaking his head. “No, I can hold the rest.”

“Hm,” Ringo said, stepping back toward him with his head angled down at George’s crotch. George thought he was just going to take a look, but to his horror, Ringo reached out and ran his hand over the pee-soaked area of his pants. “I’m not sure about that—you’re already pretty wet just from that.”

George could barely breathe. The pleasure he felt as Ringo ran his hand over his cock conflicted terribly with the strengthened urge to pee.

“I think it’s time we got you to the bathroom,” Ringo said.

Shocked, George gaped at him. “Really? The bathroom? Really?” George certainly wasn’t expecting that, but no way in hell was he going to complain.

“Mmhm,” Ringo said before resting his hand on the small of George’s back. “C’mon, love.”

George walked as fast as his bladder could handle to make it to the bathroom with Ringo. He wasn’t expecting Ringo to actually let him relieve himself this way—didn’t it defeat the purpose? Still, once they arrived at the bathroom, George eagerly stepped toward the toilet. God, it would feel _so_ good—

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ringo asked, putting a hand on George’s shoulder to hold him in place.

“What do you mean? I’m going—”

Ringo cut him off with a cruel laugh. “Oh, no. All I said was we could go into the bathroom. I didn’t say anything about using the toilet.”

George couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The toilet was right there in front of him, but Ringo still wasn’t allowing him to use it? “ _God_ , Ritchie, _please_ —I’m not gonna make it much longer.”

“Don’t worry, Georgie,” Ringo said, running a hand over George’s cheek. “I’ll let you go soon. But first,” he said as he held up his other hand, “I’ve got some business to take care of. As much as I liked feeling how beautifully wet the front of your pants was after that leak, I’d better wash this hand off—can’t be spreading germs around, now can I?”

This was insane. Was there even an endpoint to this dirty little game of Ringo’s? What was even the purpose of Ringo dragging George in here—

Ringo reached toward the faucet to turn on the running water.

Oh god _no_.

As soon as the sound of the water splashing against the sink hit George’s ears, he cried out. Both hands rushed to grab at himself—cheating be damned. But as Ringo kept scrubbing his hands, occasionally cupping some of the water in his hands before releasing it back into the sink, George slipped again.

“ _Ah_ —” he cried out as a longer stream of piss left his body. He desperately clutched at his crotch to stop the flow, and he succeeded—but not before the pee soaked through the front of his pants and onto his hands, leaving his fingers dripping. He squeezed his eyes shut as a feeling of shame overcame him. That was the biggest leak he’d had, and he almost hadn’t been able to stop it.

Ringo finally shut off the water, but George was too scared of how Ringo would react to be relieved. When Ringo finished drying his hands and turned back to look at George, his eyes widened. “Look at you,” he said slowly.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” George said. “I tried not to—I’m sorry—but I still stopped it, I stopped it for you.”

That made Ringo pause. “For me?”

“You didn’t tell me I could go yet,” George said, practically crying. “I don’t wanna let you down, I wanna be good for you—”

“Woah, woah, Georgie,” Ringo said, dropping the game and rushing over to him in genuine concern. “Don’t cry, you haven’t let me down. I’m sorry—I got too caught up in this and got too controlling. Why didn’t you use the safewords?”

George looked at him in confusion as he blinked back the tears that had been forming in his eyes. “…Because I didn’t want to use the safewords?”

Now it was Ringo’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I _like_ it, alright?” George said, looking down toward the floor where there—thankfully—wasn’t a puddle of piss. “I like when you tell me what you want me to do, and I like doing it right and making you happy.”

As George’s words sunk in, Ringo’s cheeks grew dark again. “O-oh,” he said deeply. He stayed silent for another moment before asking quietly, “Green?”

George swallowed. “Bright fucking green.”

The corners of Ringo’s mouth twitched upward. Then he cleared his throat. “You did so good stopping your little leak for me, Georgie. And, now that my hands are all nice and clean, I think it’s about time to let you pee.”

“Really?” George asked, thrilled to be back into the game again.

“Mm-hm.”

“I can pee?”

“You may.”

George headed toward the toilet and frantically tried to unbutton his pants.

Ringo cleared his throat again. “Wait just a second, love. You’re allowed to pee—but not in the toilet.”

Whimpering, George pressed his hands harder against his crotch. “But it’s right there,” he whined.

“Yeah,” Ringo said with a shrug. “It is. But it’s off-limits—unless you can make it another fifteen minutes.”

“No— _ah_ —Ritchie, I can’t make it that long—”

“Then you can piss on the floor.”

This was complete and utter cruelty, but _damn_ it was turning George on—and he knew from the bulge in Ringo’s pants that he was feeling the same way. George bit his lip as he considered his options. “…I’ll wait.”

Ringo hummed in thought, then took a seat on the closed toilet lid himself. “Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, you can go on the floor _anytime_ you want.”

No. No, George wouldn’t do it. He could wait—

“Ahh,” Ringo said, spreading his own legs apart. “Just think, George—fifteen minutes from now, you’ll get the best relief of your _life_.”

George squirmed where he stood and tried to block out Ringo’s voice.

“You’ll stand right in front of the toilet, and relax all your poor, exhausted muscles…”

 _Oh no_.

“…and a huge waterfall of piss will come gushing out of you, splashing all over the toilet bowl as you just keep peeing and peeing and—”

George lost control. He let out a moan as the stream started, spreading through his underwear and pants and onto his hands as little trails of piss plummeted down his legs and onto the floor beneath him. It felt so fucking good to let go that George could barely hold himself upright. He leaned back against the wall and started gasping for breath as he continued emptying his bladder all over himself.

“That’s it, baby,” Ringo said, standing up to press his hand on George’s bladder, helping the flow move even faster. “Ruin yourself for me,” Ringo whispered as he placed kisses all over George’s face.

When George finished emptying himself and could finally focus his full attention on Ringo’s kisses, he moaned—loudly. “Ritchie…Ritchie—now what?”

“Now you get to rest,” Ringo said.

“Don’t wanna,” George gasped. “I wanna come—please?” He had barely finished pissing, but already George was half hard.

Ringo glanced down and saw the situation for himself. He laughed. “Well, since you’ve behaved yourself so well for me today, I guess I can allow that.”

“ _Ah_ —thank you,” George said, now fully hard.

“How do you want to do it?” Ringo asked.

Without missing a beat, George said, “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Ringo kissed George one more time before pulling back, then he took a deep breath. “Touch yourself for me. I wanna watch you, standing in your dirty little puddle, getting off on how much you liked pissing yourself for me.”

George did as he was told. And he had never come so hard in his life.


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next few weeks, George and Ringo got more comfortable experimenting with their recently revealed sexual tastes, figuring out how to make it as good for each other as possible. George was glad that he had told Ringo how much he liked it when Ringo took control. Now, even when they had regular, piss-free sex, Ringo was being a lot more demanding with George, and it made George feel incredible—and Ringo was adjusting to the change very easily.

But at the current moment, they were enjoying themselves another way. The two of them were cuddled up on the couch in front of the television after a long day in the studio. Ringo’s arm was around George’s waist, and he traced tiny circles into George’s side with his thumb, just under the hem of George’s shirt.

George sighed and relaxed further into Ringo’s touch. “Hey, Ritchie?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“Do you only like it when I wet my pants because I can’t hold it in anymore? Or do you like it anytime?”

Ringo gave him a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, since you seem to have no problem cleaning up my piss all over the place, could I just piss myself whenever I want and expect you to clean it up for me?”

Shaking his head and laughing, Ringo said, “Go ahead and piss if you want to—but you have to get off your own lazy arse to clean it up.”

George groaned.

“Hey, George?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

“…No…yes.”

Ringo kissed him on the cheek. “Get up.”

“But I’m comfortable here,” George complained.

“Get _up_ ,” Ringo insisted, poking George in the side with his finger.

“But—”

“I’m not asking, George.”

“…Fine.”

George stood up to make his way to the bathroom like a normal, responsible human being, no matter how much he wanted to stay huddled up with his boyfriend. He got to the room and was about to shut the door when Ringo stuck a hand out to hold the door open. George hadn’t even noticed that Ringo had been following him. “Getting clingy now, are we?” George teased.

“Relax, I’m not gonna do anything kinky now,” Ringo said. “ _You_ were the one who was gonna pee on the couch again to avoid leaving me for one minute.”

“…Fair point.”

Ringo averted his eyes slightly as George did his business. “Ohh, _yeah_ ,” George fake moaned as he relieved himself. “This makes me feel _so_ good. God, it’s making me so horny.”

“You cheeky bastard,” Ringo said from the doorway, giggling.

It was such a silly moment, but George couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across his face. Things had always been great with Ringo, but ever since Ringo had shared how much he liked it when George wet himself, their relationship had been on a whole other level. Communication between the two of them was smoother and more open than ever, and George had been in a constant state of domestic bliss. They didn’t have to keep any secrets from each other anymore, and it was a wonderful feeling.

They kissed before making their way back to the couch. But instead of continuing to watch the television when they sat back down, their hands began to wander. Ringo slid his hand up and down George’s thigh before sliding it up underneath his shirt. With all the shivers running down George’s spine, he almost didn’t notice the words Ringo was saying.

“So, George, I was thinking…tonight, I’d like you to hold for me again.”

George hummed, turning to face Ringo and running his fingers through Ringo’s hair. “You mean what I just did in the bathroom wasn’t enough for you?” George teased.

Ringo laughed and gave George’s hip a squeeze. “As _lovely_ as that was, I think you could step it up a notch—and I mean _really_ step it up a notch,” he said seriously.

That piqued George’s interest. “What do you have in mind?”

Ringo smiled. “You’ve been doing so well for me,” he said as he resumed running his hands over George’s chest. “Now that you’ve had a bit more practice, I bet you can hold even more.”

As Ringo’s hand came to rest on top of his bladder, George swallowed. “How much?”

“Seven glasses.”

George’s heartbeat quickened as he processed the number that Ringo had said. He had never tried holding that much water before—hell, he wasn’t even sure that it was physically possible. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold all that,” he said, figuring that Ringo might have pity on him.

But Ringo just smirked. “You will.”

George didn’t argue with that. If it would make Ringo happy then _damn it_ , he’d find a way to do it.

* * *

As George thought back on his decision after finishing his sixth glass of water, he didn’t know what the fuck he had been thinking. There was no way it would be possible to get down one more glass, especially if Ringo planned on cruelly filling glass number seven all the way to the brim as he had done with glasses five and six.

Breathing heavily, George kept squirming around on his chair and pressing his thighs together as tightly as he could. He resisted the urge to grab himself with his hands—Ringo had given him explicit instructions _not_ to use his hands for help tonight, and George didn’t want to find out what would happen if he disobeyed.

Ringo returned from the refrigerator with glass number seven in his hand, and—sure enough—it was completely full. A few droplets sloshed over the side and splashed to the floor, and George could have sworn that Ringo _smiled_ when he noticed the effect it had on George. “Having trouble, love?” Ringo asked in a deceptively sweet voice.

George inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes shut. “No.”

“Look at me,” Ringo said, sharply this time.

George’s eyes snapped open just in time to see Ringo leaning closer and using two fingers to tilt George’s chin upward to meet his gaze. As George’s cheeks grew hotter, Ringo’s smirk grew wider. “Good boy,” Ringo said as he slid his fingers off of George’s chin, letting them graze across his lips before pulling them away entirely. “Now, how about we get started on this last cup, hm?”

Another wave of desperation hit George, and he let out a whine as he clenched his trembling legs more tightly together.

“What was that?” Ringo asked, still holding the last glass.

Against his better judgement, George nodded and took the glass from Ringo’s hand. He began with a few small sips, and when his bladder didn’t explode on the spot, he took several larger swigs. The glass was halfway empty when he paused to catch his breath and try to keep his composure.

“You’re not done yet, George,” Ringo said, taking matters into his own hands. He grabbed the cup and brought it back to George’s lips himself. “Keep drinking,” he ordered as he began to tip the water toward George’s mouth.

George couldn’t believe that this was happening. His boyfriend was about to force water down his throat when he was already about to burst. But just before the water hit George’s lips, Ringo paused—it was only for a split second, but it had definitely happened. Ringo was giving George a way out, if he should choose to take it.

Like hell, he would.

The cup tilted further, and George began gulping down the rest of the water as quickly as he could. “That’s it,” Ringo whispered as George managed to finish the glass. Ringo set the empty cup on the table and turned back to face George. “You’re doing so well. You’re so good, Georgie,” he said, bending down to capture George’s lips in a kiss.

George eagerly kissed back and was disappointed when Ringo pulled away after only a few seconds.

“I wanna see how full you are,” Ringo said, lifting off George’s shirt and throwing it down onto the floor. Shivering, George watched as Ringo’s eyes dropped down toward his hips. Ringo’s eyes widened and his expression became almost hungry as he knelt by George’s side.

George followed Ringo’s gaze and was shocked to see a visible bulge from all the liquid in his bladder. Ringo lightly placed his hand against George’s bladder to feel it for himself. “God, George, you’re breathtaking. You’re so full—it must be so tempting to just relax all those poor muscles of yours and let it all go.”

Gasping, George used all of his concentration to keep holding. He had a love-hate relationship with Ringo’s teasing, but the love far outweighed the hate.

“Just think,” Ringo said, his hand still skimming softly across George’s stomach, “it would be so easy for me to push down on your little bladder and make you spill all over yourself.”

His words triggered something within George—he wanted to prove himself. “No,” George said, looking Ringo directly in the eyes. “I could hold it.”

Ringo raised an eyebrow. “Really? Not even a leak?”

“No leaks. I’ll stay dry.”

Ringo still wasn’t convinced. He kept staring at George and waiting. That’s when George remembered the first time Ringo had pushed down on his bladder—the only time when George had used a safeword. But that had been weeks ago—George had gotten more comfortable since then. Not breaking eye contact, George opened his mouth and whispered, “Green.” 

A smile appeared on Ringo’s lips as he readied his hand. “No leaking,” he commanded, and George nodded.

Then, very slowly, Ringo’s hand applied a tiny bit of pressure. And the effect was tremendous.

George cried out as the urge to piss became even stronger. His legs shook and his hands clutched desperately at the sides of the chair to stop himself from grabbing himself. But he couldn’t leak, he _couldn’t_. He would hold it.

Ringo kept his palm pressed against George while his fingertips rhythmically drummed on George’s stomach. The slight changes in pressure made George whimper as he struggled to hold it in. George kept rubbing his thighs together, trying to find a position that would relieve the pressure, but it was getting harder and harder, and George wasn’t sure how much longer he could—

After an agonizingly long length of time, Ringo removed his hand. George let out a high-pitched sigh and dropped his head forward as he struggled to catch his breath. He did it—he fucking _did_ it. Ringo was going to be so proud of him.

“Let’s see how well you did,” Ringo said, using his hands to spread George’s legs. It was much harder for George to hold in this position, but he stayed in control so that Ringo could get a good look. “Wow,” Ringo whispered as he ran a hand over George’s crotch. “Completely dry, just like I asked.” He leaned in to press a kiss to the inside of George’s thigh. “You’re doing so well for me, George. And since you’ve been so good, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

George’s eyes widened. “Can I…can I piss?”

Ringo laughed. “You haven’t earned _that_ much of a reward, love. You’re gonna hold it a little more. But until then, you can have something else. So…,” Ringo said, standing up and taking George’s face in both of his hands. He kissed George so softly that the kiss was barely even there, and George chased after his lips as Ringo pulled away. “Tell me what you want,” Ringo said deeply.

As George stared into Ringo’s bright blue eyes, his mouth impossibly felt dry. “I want…. Can I touch you?” George asked, reaching a hand toward the button on Ringo’s pants.

A low groan escaped Ringo’s throat. “You may.”

That was all it took for George to grab the front of Ringo’s pants and open them. He pushed down the waistband and pulled out Ringo’s cock, which was already hard. Then George began stroking.

Ringo moaned at George’s touch and thrusted his hips forward. “Fuck,” he gasped as George picked up the pace. “That’s it, baby, just like that. God, you’re so cute like this, George. Still bouncing around on that chair, about to piss yourself, and all you’re thinking about is me.”

How could George _not_ be thinking of Ringo? Ringo’s thick cock was in his hand, and Ringo’s flushed face filled George’s field of vision. Then, when George grabbed Ringo’s hip to pull him closer and take his cock into his mouth, Ringo let out the most wonderful noise. He wanted more of Ringo—

George whined around Ringo’s cock as a short spurt of pee escaped from him. He pulled off of Ringo and pressed his legs together to stop the flow. It was only a small leak, but George could feel the patch of wetness pressed up against his own dick.

Ringo laughed above him as he tucked his cock back into his pants. “Looks like you love the taste of me so much that you forgot to keep holding,” he said as he reached down and rubbed his hand against George’s wet pants, effectively stroking George’s cock in the process. “You actually _like_ this, don’t you?” Ringo asked, looking at the way that George was biting his lip at the friction. “You like it when you feel your own piss all over yourself, and when I watch as you make a mess of yourself.”

As Ringo kept touching his wet crotch, George wished he could say no, he really did—but they’d both know that it was a lie. “Yes,” he mumbled, looking down.

“Poor thing,” Ringo said. “Can’t even look at me, you’re feeling so ashamed of yourself. It’s a good thing you’re so damn beautiful.” Ringo took his hand off George. “You’re so beautiful like this that I’d like you to keep holding a little longer. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

“Yes,” George gasped. “Anything.”

“Good,” Ringo said, smiling. “And before you’re allowed to pee, I think you need one more little challenge.”

“C-challenge?” George asked, his legs still quivering.

“Mm-hm,” Ringo said while placing one hand on each of George’s knees and swiftly shoving his legs as far apart as they could go.

George gasped as his desperation shot up now that he didn’t have the added help of his legs. He breathed heavily and clenched his teeth tightly as if _that_ would somehow make it easier.

“Don’t move your legs,” Ringo instructed, squeezing George’s knees once before releasing his grip.

It was so hard. And it hurt so much. But George wasn’t going to give into the pressure. He kept his hands firmly attached to his thighs to make sure that both his hands and legs stayed away from the place that Ringo had forbidden them to go. His hips shifted from side to side, chasing any kind of relief, but it was useless. He needed to go so bad and nothing could get rid of the feeling. This was the fullest his bladder had ever been in his entire life, and it was still getting fuller, and he wasn’t going to make it, he couldn’t hold it, oh god, _oh god_.

George couldn’t help it.

The stream started to flow, and without the use of his legs, George couldn’t get it to stop. He tried so hard, but it kept going and going, soaking his pants and the chair, and after a few seconds George stopped trying. He let the relief wash over him as his piss pooled on his chair and splashed onto the floor. All those glasses of water that he had gulped down were finally worth it in this moment as he finally relaxed his aching muscles and let everything go. It felt so good, and as he finally finished emptying his bladder, George smiled—

“I didn’t say you could go.”

Ringo’s ice-cold voice abruptly ended George’s good mood and sent chills down his spine. George froze and slowly looked up to meet Ringo’s gaze, and what he saw made him shrink toward the back of his chair. For once, there wasn’t even a trace of a smile on Ringo’s face, and his eyes were narrowed in a mix of anger and disappointment.

“I-I’m sorry,” George sputtered, trying to defend himself, but Ringo held up a hand to cut him off.

“Don’t.” Ringo pursed his lips and shook his head. “I told you to hold it, George.”

“I know. I tried.”

“Then you didn’t try hard enough.”

George squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears that were starting to form. He had disappointed Ringo. He had never wanted to let that happen.

“Shh,” Ringo said, gently wiping away the moisture below George’s eyes. “I know you’ll do better next time. And until then, I’ll just have to make sure that you’ve learned your lesson.”

“I’m sorry,” George repeated. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said, reaching for Ringo’s crotch.

But Ringo swatted his hand away. “Oh, no. You don’t get rewards for being bad.” He smirked. “You get punishments.”

The blood drained from George’s face and, inexplicably, rushed into his dick. “What kind of punishment?”

“You’ll find out later,” Ringo said. “For now, you’ll go clean up in the shower—alone. And don’t you dare even think about taking care of _that_ while you’re in there,” he said, pointing at the growing bulge in George’s pants. “Do you understand?”

George nodded.

“Good. Now, go.”

Feeling completely humiliated, George rose from his chair and cringed as the movement sent more piss running down from the seat of his pants to the floor—another reminder of his failure. He never wanted to let Ringo down like this again. But for now, George shuffled off to the shower and tried not to think about whatever punishment Ringo might have in store for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's gettin' all kinky up in here 🔥 And it's probably gonna just keep getting kinkier from here, so prepare yourself if you're still reading this thing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The punishment: part 1

On the night when George had failed at holding, he had a difficult time falling asleep. He wanted to cuddle with Ringo, but each time he placed a hand on Ringo’s waist or touched his hair, Ringo nudged him away. And that wasn’t even the _real_ punishment yet.

George still didn’t know what his punishment for disobeying would be, but Ringo would be telling him tomorrow—and George couldn’t deny that he was a bit excited. Whatever it was, the punishment was sure to introduce him to something even more intense than what they had already been doing, and George wanted to see how far Ringo was willing to push him. He just had to be patient for a few more hours.

After a lot more tossing and turning, George finally drifted off to sleep. If the number of toilets that appeared in his dreams was anything to go by, he couldn’t wait for the morning.

* * *

When George woke to the sound of his alarm, Ringo was already out of bed—and judging by how cold his side of the bed was, he had been up for a while. George rolled over to face the ceiling, and the movement caused him to notice a tiny amount of pressure in his bladder. It was nothing compared to what he had grown accustomed to recently, but it would still feel good to relieve himself.

Groaning, George sat up and climbed off the creaky bed to make his way toward the master bathroom. But before George could enter, Ringo opened their bedroom door.

“Good morning, George,” Ringo said with a slightly hard edge to his voice.

George paused. “Morning, Ritchie.”

“I believe it’s time to discuss your punishment,” Ringo said.

 _Already?_ George thought. Ringo certainly wasn’t wasting any time. “Alright,” George said, his eyes drifting down toward the floor. “Can I just use the loo first?”

Ringo laughed coolly, then pointed to the bed. “Sit.”

George did as he was told. A small feeling of dread grew in the pit of his stomach, but he pushed the feeling away.

As George sat, Ringo paced slowly back and forth in front of him. “You disappointed me last night, George,” Ringo sighed. “I told you to keep holding, but instead, you decided to ignore me and take the pleasure of relieving yourself on your own terms.”

George was about to protest that he had tried his best and had wanted to please Ringo, but when he saw the cold look Ringo gave him, he shut his mouth.

“Clearly you haven’t learned the importance of following instructions,” Ringo continued. “But, it isn’t _all_ your own fault. I haven’t been giving you enough opportunities to practice controlling yourself.” Ringo stopped pacing and looked straight at George. “Today, we’re going to fix that.

“From this morning till tonight, _I_ decide when you’re allowed to use the bathroom. Any time outside of your two bathroom breaks, you have to hold it. If you _don’t_ hold it….” Ringo paused to laugh. “If you don’t hold it, then we’ll repeat the same thing every day until you’ve learned your lesson.”

When it was clear that Ringo was done talking, George spoke up. “T-two bathroom breaks? I can only piss twice?”

“That’s right.”

“But we’ve got rehearsal today. John and Paul will be there, and—”

“Then you better not have an accident,” Ringo said. “We wouldn’t want all your friends to see you humiliate yourself like that.”

George felt his face flush. He hated the thought of wetting himself in the middle of the studio. Hopefully Ringo was only trying to motivate him to hold rather than actually hoping that George would have an accident in the middle of recording.

“What d’ya say, Georgie?” Ringo asked, lightly touching George’s hand. “Can you hold it until lunch?”

George looked down at his and Ringo’s hands. He didn’t have to go _too_ bad at the moment, but as soon as he’d eat breakfast it was bound to get worse—not to mention the water he’d have to drink at the studio to make sure his throat wouldn’t get too worn out.

But he didn’t want to disappoint Ringo again. And lunch was only a few hours away. He could make it that long. He could do it.

Looking up to meet Ringo’s gaze, George nodded. “I’ll hold it.”

Ringo placed a hand under George’s chin to tilt his face upward before leaning down until their lips were centimeters apart. Then he smiled and whispered, “Good boy,” kissing George’s forehead and leaving his lips untouched. “Let’s go eat breakfast,” he said, grabbing George’s hand and dragging him from the bed to the kitchen.

George took a deep breath. This was going to be an interesting day.

* * *

By the time they made it to the studio, George was feeling the urge to go a bit more strongly. It wasn’t so bad that he was struggling to hold it in, but on any other day he would have been heading to the restroom by this point.

Still, he pulled out his guitar and set up to play. He settled down in his usual chair, crossed his right ankle over his left knee, and readied himself for what was to come.

The first hour went by smoothly. Playing helped distract him from the pressure that was steadily building in his bladder with each sip of water—and the little glances Ringo shot his way each time he raised the water to his lips did not go unnoticed.

Then it started to get worse. George had to shift out of his usual sitting position to cross his legs more tightly. His breaths became shallower and faster as he fought back gasps. But, most importantly, he began losing track of his place in songs—and the others noticed.

“George, you’re three measures behind us,” John said, glaring at him. “What the fuck are you…woah, are you alright?”

George’s eyes widened. “I’m fine. Just got lost, sorry.”

“Are you sure?” Paul asked. “You’re looking awfully flushed. Make sure you’re drinking enough,” he added, pointing to George’s glass.

Oh, _fuck_ no. “I’m alright, I swear,” George said.

“Paul’s right,” Ringo chimed in. “It’s important to stay hydrated.”

George gave Ringo a panicked look, but Ringo only smirked in return. “Fine, if it’ll get you arseholes off my case,” George muttered, taking a couple swigs of water.

“I should have known,” John teased. “If Paul or I ask him to do something he flat-out ignores us, but if his boyfriend asks, he’ll do anything.”

“Fuck off, Lennon,” Ringo said, smiling. Thank god they were all laughing—if John and Paul knew the truth behind John’s words…well, George didn’t want to think about that.

Rehearsal went on, and John and Paul resumed not paying much attention to George. It was very lucky that they weren’t much attention to him, because with every passing minute, George was fidgeting more and more. His desperation kept growing, and with that desperation came fear. Wetting himself in the privacy of his own home was one thing, but George really hated the thought of wetting himself around so many other people. He didn’t want to let Ringo down, but if Ringo made him wait too much longer, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it.

The pressure hadn’t yet reached the point of being unbearable, so George would be able to last a little longer. Then again, every time George had done this before, he had leaked before the pressure reached its peak. If he leaked here, the others would surely notice the wet splotch on his pants—George could already hear John’s mocking comments. And the teasing would send him into a state of panic, pushing him over the edge and making him relieve himself while all eyes were directly on him, watching as his pants grew soaked with his own piss while he was powerless to stop it—

Ringo cleared his throat, interrupting George’s thoughts. George’s eyes flew toward him, and he was surprised to find Ringo looking at him in concern. After glancing toward John and Paul to confirm that they weren’t looking, George gave Ringo a quick thumbs-up. If he could just stop focusing on his fears and start focusing on fucking _holding_ , he should be able to do it.

Pursing his lips briefly, Ringo finally nodded. Then, for just a split second, Ringo held up all his fingers. _Ten. Ten minutes_.

Thank fuck.

George could make it ten more minutes. He had already held it for hours—what were ten more measly minutes?

The next few minutes passed slowly as George continued squeezing his legs together as tightly as he could. The others stopped playing to discuss something—not that George had the slightest idea of what they were talking about. All he could think about was how badly he had to piss, and how amazing it would be to rush off to the bathroom to relieve his aching bladder.

He shut his eyes, trying to block out any other distractions, but getting rid of his sight just made him more conscious of the way his heart pounded in his chest, and the way the walls of his bladder were straining. The conversation around him was just background noise until he managed to catch the word ‘ _lunch_.’

George opened his eyes and saw the others looking at him. “Ready for a lunch break, George?” Ringo repeated, a hint of a smirk on his face.

Resisting the urge to cry out in happiness, George nodded. “Sure, I could go for lunch. But I think I’ll…can I just use the loo before we head out?”

Ringo’s smile fell, and he gave George a look that he hoped John and Paul hadn’t noticed. “I’m awfully hungry, George. Let’s get to the restaurant first.”

George bit his lip to hold back a whine, then immediately felt his face flush. Luckily, John was busy teasing Ringo about being a ‘pig,’ and Paul was busy laughing at John’s joke. At least the restaurant they picked was only a block away.

A minute later, the four of them left the studio, leaving behind the rest of the team in the booth, and made their way to the restaurant. John and Paul took the lead with George and Ringo trailing behind—far behind. George could feel all the liquid sloshing around in his bladder with every step—it was torture.

“Just a little farther,” Ringo muttered under his breath so that only George could hear. “You’re so strong, Georgie. You’re doing so good for me.”

If his bladder wasn’t about to burst, George surely would have gotten hard right on the spot. Instead, he clenched his fists and continued taking small, shuffling steps toward the entryway.

They finally made it inside and found a table. Ringo announced that he needed to ‘use’ the loo as well, and he and George made their way to the bathroom as quickly as George could handle.

Once they were inside the restroom, George rushed to the nearest urinal and struggled to unzip his pants, but Ringo grabbed his shoulder and stopped him from moving. George gave him a pleading look and pressed his thighs together, but Ringo put a finger to his lips and stayed silent. Ringo then proceeded to go down the line of stalls, pushing each door open to make sure they were completely alone.

Satisfied, Ringo locked the main door to the restroom. Then he walked over to George, spun George around to face him, and kissed him fiercely. “Fuck, George,” he gasped. “You’re so fucking hot, the way you kept squirming around with your guitar in your lap, pretending everything was fine.”

“N-no,” George whined, turning his head slightly to the side. “Please, Ritchie, I can’t—I need to go—please.”

Ringo grabbed George’s chin and turned his head back for one last kiss, then he released him. “You can go,” Ringo said, reaching down to finish unzipping George’s pants.

George moaned at the news that he was finally allowed to piss, then he moaned again at the way Ringo’s hand brushed up against his crotch. With shaking hands, George freed his cock and relaxed his muscles—

Ringo’s arms wrapped around George from behind, and he pushed against George’s bladder—hard.

A heavy stream of piss shot out of George so rapidly that it splashed all over the inside of the urinal. He let out a massive involuntary moan—which Ringo quickly silenced by forcing his other hand over George’s mouth. “That’s it, baby,” Ringo whispered. “Let it all go.”

Tears began to form in George’s eyes as the relief overcame him. The piss just kept going and going, and it felt so fucking good. His legs grew weaker, but Ringo’s firm hands held him upright as he pushed out those last few bursts of piss into the urinal.

When he was completely empty, George closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. After all those hours, he could finally pay attention to something besides how badly he had to piss…like the way that Ringo’s massive bulge was pushing against his backside. “Enjoyed that, did you?” George teased, pushing his hips back against Ringo’s.

Ringo’s breath hitched as his hips jerked forward against George. “Oh, yeah,” Ringo whispered. “You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he said, turning George around and cupping George’s cheek with his hand. “I wish I could see you like this every day.”

George’s eyes widened. As much as he wanted to please Ringo, there was no way he could let Ringo control all of his bathroom usage every day—

“Don’t worry, love,” Ringo added. “We won’t do this every day—I won’t let your cute little bladder and kidneys get hurt,” he said, running his hand over George’s empty bladder. “We’ll only do this when you’ve been bad.”

Looking down, George nodded. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Shh. You’re being so good today,” Ringo said. He leaned closer and kissed George’s neck while grinding against him. “So good,” Ringo breathed against his neck, making George shiver. “How about you show me how good you are?” he asked, unzipping his own pants and pushing down on George’s head until George took the hint and knelt down on the floor.

As George stared at Ringo’s already leaking cock, he wanted nothing more than to take it deep into his mouth. But a memory ate at his mind, making him hesitate. “B-but, last night—you said I wasn’t allowed to get you off—because I’d been bad,” George said.

Ringo glared down at him. “Are you questioning my orders?”

George whimpered. “No, sir.”

“Good. Then—wh—wait—did you…?”

It took as much time for George to realize what he had just called Ringo as it took for Ringo to process it. Embarrassed, George was about to apologize when he noticed the bright flush on Ringo’s cheeks and the way his mouth was hanging slightly open.

“…Call me that again, George.”

George swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

Ringo let out a deep, choked moan and thrusted his hips forward, desperately seeking contact but only meeting air. “Suck me off, George. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” George gasped as he opened his mouth and slid as far down along Ringo’s dick as he could.

Ringo moaned again, and his hand grabbed at George’s hair, roughly pushing his head forward. George flinched at the force Ringo used, but the way Ringo was unrelenting in his grip made George’s dick twitch. He hummed against Ringo’s cock as Ringo dragged George’s head forward and backward.

“ _Ah_ —fuck,” Ringo huffed. “Feels so good. Look at you, doing exactly as I say. Can’t resist me, even in the middle of a public bathroom.”

Humming again, George looked up at Ringo, reveling in the way Ringo was falling apart just from his mouth. Ringo looked so good, and George felt himself grow even harder. He wanted to touch himself so badly, but he didn’t know if Ringo would allow it. He resisted the urge for a few more seconds, but as soon as Ringo tugged at his hair even harder, George’s hand made up his mind for him. Sighing around Ringo’s dick, George began stroking himself—

“Hands on me.”

George stilled his hand and looked back at Ringo.

“You’re not _that_ good yet, love,” Ringo said, smirking. “Put your hands on me so I know you’re not doing anything with your hands that you haven’t earned.”

His mouth was occupied, but George still thought, ‘ _Yes, sir,_ ’ as he wrapped one hand around the back of Ringo’s thigh and used the other to gently cup Ringo’s balls.

“That’s my good boy,” Ringo said as he brushed a few locks of George’s hair away from his sweaty face. “Show me what else that beautiful mouth of yours can do.”

George eagerly obeyed. He took Ringo’s dick as far into his throat as he could, he pulled off to run his tongue across Ringo’s balls, he did everything he could to give Ringo the most pleasurable time of his life. Less than two minutes later, Ringo was biting his hand to stifle his cry of George’s name as he came into George’s mouth.

George was out of breath when Ringo finally slid out of his mouth, leaving a small trail of come dripping down George’s chin. Before Ringo could move, George swiped two fingers across his chin to gather up the come, then he stuck his tongue out to lick along the length of his fingers before taking his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean.

“My god,” Ringo whispered, pulling George to his feet. “How did I end up with someone as incredible as you?”

“I ask myself the same question every day,” George said.

Ringo skimmed his fingers across George’s cheek and kissed him softly. “If you finish this punishment today without disobeying me, I’m gonna make you feel so damn good.”

Wrapping his arms around Ringo and holding him, George smiled. “You already have.”

And with that, they cleaned themselves off, unlocked the door, and headed back to the table. “What the fuck were you two doing in there?” Paul asked when they sat down.

“Nothing,” Ringo said, reaching for his glass of water and taking a massive drink.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t just have a quickie in there,” John said.

George shrugged. “Dunno what you’re talking about. I just had to take a piss.”

Ringo laughed so hard that water shot out of his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of George's punishment will be posted tomorrow!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The punishment: part 2.

The remainder of rehearsal on George’s punishment day went much more smoothly than the first half since he had freshly relieved himself. It wasn’t until the car ride home that evening that things started to become harder.

“Now that it’s just the two of us for the rest of the night,” Ringo said as he drove, “I’d like you to finish the rest of that water bottle.”

George looked down at the almost-full bottle in his hands. “All of it, right now?”

“Yes. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice how little you drank today? You’re not gonna get off _that_ easy,” Ringo laughed. “Now, drink.”

“Alright,” George said, removing the cap. But before he could take a sip, Ringo cleared his throat and looked at him. Flushing, George corrected himself with a quiet, “Yes, sir,” and started drinking. He was halfway done with the bottle when they arrived back at home, but Ringo refused to let him leave the car until the bottle was empty. George kept drinking as quickly as he could, but the way Ringo slid his hand up and down George’s thigh was making it more difficult. One time, the bottle slipped off his lips, and several drops fell onto his chin and onto the front of his pants.

“Giving me a little preview of what you’re _not_ gonna let happen tonight?” Ringo teased.

Two could play at that game. “I just love the way it feels when my pants are soaking wet.”

George’s words had the desired effect—and then some. A deep growl emerged from Ringo’s throat as he squeezed George’s thigh and grabbed the water bottle to tip it against George’s mouth again. “You better finish this soon so we can get inside to privacy—can’t let the world see all the things I wanna do to you.”

It didn’t take much longer for George to empty the bottle. The bottle dropped to the floor of the car and lay there, forgotten, as George and Ringo rushed inside their flat. They were barely through the door when Ringo crushed his lips against George’s. He wasted no time squeezing George’s arse with one hand while his other hand slid up George’s shirt to pinch one of his nipples. “Do you have any fucking idea how hard it was to resist doing this to you while we were in the studio today?” Ringo groaned into George’s mouth.

George forgot how to use his body. Ringo was touching him in so many places that George wasn’t sure if he was standing or floating. He sighed deeply as Ringo kept running a hand up and down his chest.

“You like this?” Ringo asked.

George nodded.

“Tell me. Tell me how much you like it.” Ringo slid his second hand down the back of George’s pants to cup his ass for real.

Moaning loudly, George obliged. “Feels so good, Ritchie—sir. Love your hands all over me.”

Ringo kissed a trail along George’s jawbone. “Then you’re about to feel my hands everywhere I can reach.”

He tugged George into their bedroom and shoved him onto the bed. After climbing on top of George, Ringo made quick work of removing George’s clothes, and Ringo happily sat on the thighs of his naked boyfriend. “Gorgeous,” Ringo whispered as he ran one fingertip along George’s stomach.

George gasped and laughed as Ringo tickled him. He instinctively tried to curl up his legs to protect his stomach, but Ringo’s weight stopped that from happening. “ _Ah_ —oh god,” George said, shivering as Ringo kept teasing his skin.

“Not good enough for you?” Ringo smirked. “How about this?” Sliding his hands lower, Ringo caressed George’s hips and the insides of his thighs, inching closer to George’s half-hard dick—but just before he reached the base, Ringo reversed the direction of his hands.

George whimpered and lifted his head off his pillow to look at Ringo.

“Nice try, love,” Ringo said. “You don’t get _that_ yet. But if you can hold in the rest of your piss for another hour, I’ll treat you so good, Georgie.”

Only an hour? George’s bladder hardly felt full at all—that would be no problem.

“You’ll hold it for an hour, right?” Ringo asked, running his hands over the front of George’s bladder and applying a little pressure.

“Yes, sir. Easily.”

George realized his mistake as soon as Ringo raised an eyebrow at him. “Easily? No, no—I can’t have that. What kind of punishment would that be?” He leaned down to give George one more deep kiss before climbing off of him. “Don’t move,” Ringo said as he exited the room.

A minute later, Ringo returned with a full glass of water. “Sit up.” George sat, and Ringo handed him the glass. “Drink it. All of it,” Ringo commanded.

George shakily raised the glass to his mouth and started drinking. He had already known that it would take several minutes to finish drinking, but when Ringo sat behind him on the bed and pulled their bodies flush against each other to touch George yet again, George had to slow down. Ringo ran his hands all over George’s chest, teasing his nipples as George kept trying to finish the water.

When Ringo flicked his tongue across the back of George’s neck and bit down softly, George almost dropped the glass. But he held on and swallowed the last few drops, then clumsily set the glass on the floor. “Sir? Can I kiss you? Please?” George’s voice wavered as Ringo continued to touch him. He knew Ringo wouldn’t yet give him what he really wanted, but he wanted as much pleasure as Ringo would allow him.

Ringo grabbed George’s shoulders and spun him around so that they were facing each other, and George wrapped his legs around Ringo’s waist. “Yes,” Ringo said, already moving toward George’s lips. They kissed passionately, their lips and tongues moving together in the best ways, until their position started to become a bit too much for George.

The newest glass of water was making its way into George’s bladder, and his desperation grew sharply. He gasped at the increase in pressure and tried to squeeze his legs together, but his legs were still wrapped around Ringo.

Ringo immediately noticed George’s predicament. “Alright there, George?” he asked. “Surely you must be fine—after all, you said you could easily hold it for this last hour.”

George shifted away to sit on the side of the bed, finally able to cross his legs. He also caught sight of the clock on the nightstand—he had already lasted thirty minutes, he was halfway there. “I’m fine,” George said quietly, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself.

“If you say so,” Ringo shrugged. “I guess you won’t mind having another half-glass of water,” he said, grabbing the cup and leaving the room to fill it back up.

 _Damn it_. Why had George said that he was fine? Of _course_ Ringo was going to make him drink more. Although, Ringo did say _half_ -glass. Maybe he was finally having pity on George.

…Or maybe, George thought as Ringo reentered the room with a soft smile on his face, maybe Ringo genuinely wanted George to complete the challenge so that he could help George feel good again, just like he’d been saying on repeat all day. Even when Ringo was being strict with him, he was still the sweetest man George had ever met. With that beautiful thought swirling around George’s head, he took the glass and began drinking it without hesitation.

The need to piss continued growing, but George didn’t mind as much this time as Ringo spent most of the next half hour rubbing soothing, pressure-less circles over his bladder and kissing him tenderly everywhere his lips could reach. When George had finally made it to the end, Ringo helped him to his feet and held his hand on the way to the bathroom so that he could relieve himself.

It felt amazing to relax and let the pee flow out of him, splashing into the toilet bowl for an entire minute before he was empty. But it felt even better to wrap his arms around his boyfriend, just to hug him. George almost would have been content with only that, but when Ringo reached between them to wrap his hand around George’s dick, giving him the contact that he had been craving for the past twenty-four hours, George melted into his touch.

They returned to the bed, and Ringo turned George’s night into heaven. Ringo gracefully bobbed his head up and down with his mouth around George’s dick, using his lips and throat and tongue in the most marvelous ways until George’s fingers were curling into the sheets while he cried out in ecstasy. As he came down from his high, George shut his eyes and breathed deeply—leaving him completely caught off guard when Ringo started kissing every inch of his body all over again.

It didn’t take long for George’s erection to return, and—to George’s delight—round two included Ringo in the action. Ringo entered George easily and thrusted in and out at just the right angle to fill George with pleasure every time. Ringo finished first, and the sound of his elated moans sent George over the edge seconds later.

Exhausted, they lay on the bed together, George’s arms wrapped snugly around Ringo, listening to each other breathe. George dragged his fingers through Ringo’s hair, reflecting on the past day and how surprisingly amazing it was for a punishment. And the end of the day had _certainly_ been amazing, with Ringo’s cock buried deep inside him…pushing up against his newly emptied bladder…hmm…

“…Ritchie?” George asked.

“Yeah?”

“What do you think would happen if you fucked me while I was holding?”

With wide eyes, Ringo rolled over to face George. “I’m not sure…but I would _love_ to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter's gonna have a new kind of excitement :P
> 
> Aug. 2020 Update: I've had a couple people ask me what's going on with this fic, so I thought I'd just leave an update here. I'm not abandoning the fic, I'm still continuing it! The next chapter has been a WIP for a while, I just haven't been in a very smutty mood lately, so working on it has been a challenge. I can't make any promises on when the chapter will be out, but I _will_ write it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 6 months....but I'm back!! I'm so sorry for leaving you *ahem* _waiting_ for so long, but I hope you enjoy the new chapter!!

George had never been so excited to drink water. He downed glass after glass, looking forward to what was to come later that night.

Ringo was awfully excited as well. Ever since George had wondered out loud what it would feel like to be fucked with a full bladder, the way Ringo had been looking at him was much thirstier, ready to jump on him at any moment. But still, Ringo made him wait longer. Ringo only spared him a few hungry glances as he polished off his fifth glass, but George wanted more. He needed his love to look at him, to touch him.

“Ritchie?” George asked, setting down the empty glass.

Ringo kept staring down at his magazine.

“Sir?”

With a low rumble in his throat, Ringo fixed his eyes on George. “Yes, darling?”

George shifted in his chair. “Can we…are you going to…?”

Ringo leaned closer and lowered his eyelids. “Speak clearly, George. Tell me what you want.”

All kinds of sensations filled George’s gut. “I want you, sir.”

“Hm,” Ringo said nonchalantly, and it drove George mad. “Have you gotten yourself nice and ready for me?” he asked, flicking the rim of George’s glass. The soft _ting_ echoed around the room.

“Yes,” George nodded. “Five glasses, just like you told me.”

Ringo cupped George’s cheek. “Such a good boy.” He kissed George softly before pulling him to his feet and leading him to the bedroom.

George eagerly followed Ringo, even walking a bit faster than his bladder wanted so that he could get Ringo inside him faster. The water sloshed around his bladder as Ringo pushed him onto the bed, but the pressure just made George moan.

“You’re such a dirty boy for me,” Ringo said, pulling off both of their shirts before shoving George flat on his back. “You could piss the bed any second, and you’re still getting so hard.” He pressed his palm against George’s clothed dick, and George bucked his hips upward. “Are you my good, messy boy?”

“Yes,” George gasped as Ringo kept stroking him through his pants. “So messy, sir. I love pissing myself for you.”

“I know,” Ringo chuckled. “But you’re gonna hold longer. No pissing until we both come.”

George wasn’t sure how easy it would be to come when he had to pee so badly, but if anyone could get him to come in these circumstances, it was Ringo. “Yes, sir.”

“Fuck, I love it when you’re obedient,” Ringo said, removing his hand from George’s crotch. “Strip for me.”

Biting his lip seductively, George unbuttoned his pants and slid them off his hips, sighing as his cock sprang up. He kept his eyes locked on Ringo’s as he threw the rest of his clothes to the side.

“Look at you,” Ringo whispered, resting his hand on the tiny bulge of George’s bladder. “So full for me.”

George whimpered at the touch. “Fill me up more? Please?”

“Are you sure you can take it?” Ringo teased, pushing down on George’s bladder.

“ _Ah_ —yes, sir,” George said through gritted teeth as he clutched the bedsheets.

After a few seconds, Ringo let go—and smiled as George’s dick grew harder. “Fuck, you really do like this, don’t you?” Ringo growled, removing his own pants and grabbing the lube.

George couldn’t focus enough to respond. His bladder was getting fuller by the minute, and the thought of Ringo’s cock ramming against it from the inside made him squirm.

“You look so pretty lying here for me,” Ringo said, gliding his hand closer to George’s dick. “How about I give you an extra treat before the main event, hm?” Ringo finally made contact and gave George a few slow, firm strokes.

Clenching his fists tightly, George tried to hold himself together. Ringo’s heavenly strokes made him want to relax and let go, but he had to fight all his instincts.

“Relax,” Ringo said with a knowing smirk. “Enjoy yourself.” He trailed his fingertips over George’s inner thigh, tickling him.

“No-no-no Ritchie, I can’t,” George whimpered, uselessly trying to press his legs together. He couldn’t piss so soon, he couldn’t let Ringo down.

Suddenly, Ringo halted his strokes and lightly squeezed George’s cock just below the head. “Don’t even think about pissing yet, Georgie. You wouldn’t take all this fun away from me, would you?”

George shook his head and took deep breaths as Ringo gradually released his grip. He would do this. But he’d need a distraction, preferably in the form of Ringo’s moans. “Please fuck me, sir.”

“Do you think you’ve earned that?”

George’s eyes grew wide. He thought he had, but maybe he hadn’t. Did he need to drink more, or pleasure Ringo more—

Ringo silenced his thoughts with a kiss. “Because _I_ think you’ve earned it. You’re doing so well, baby. I’m gonna make you come so hard. I just couldn’t resist teasing you a bit more.”

“So you’re gonna fuck me?” George pleaded.

“Oh yeah.” But before Ringo did so, he dipped down and licked a risky stripe up the length of George’s cock. “Let’s fill you up, baby.”

As Ringo lined himself up with George’s entrance, George thanked god that he hadn’t pissed himself when Ringo’s mouth was right there. Then Ringo slid inside him, and George began praying to god instead. It felt like his bladder was contracting right then and there, and all Ringo had done was push inside and pause. Once he started moving…

George gasped as something leaked out of him. He reached for himself in the hopes of wiping away a few drops before Ringo noticed, but he was surprised to see a bead of precum and nothing more.

“Mm, you love being full, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” George muttered on instinct, still in shock that he hadn’t been able to tell the difference between come and piss. He hardly had time to process it, however, as Ringo started thrusting. Each time Ringo pushed inside, George felt a surge of pressure stronger than he had ever felt before. He hardly knew if it was pleasure or pain, but he knew he didn’t want it to stop. He kept clenching his muscles to hold it all in, and each time he did, Ringo let out a huge moan.

“Fuck, keep doing whatever you’re doing, George,” Ringo choked out as he sped up. “You feel unbelievable.”

George couldn’t believe it either. His bladder was about to explode, and he was still getting ruthlessly pummeled. Some kind of pressure was building up, but he wasn’t sure what it was. So, he squeezed his eyes shut and let the sensations wash over him as he clenched every muscle in his body.

Ringo groaned again. “You’re so fucking tight. God, you’re perfect. Let’s do this every day.” The incoherent whine that spilled from George’s lips spurred Ringo on more. “I’m getting close,” Ringo gasped.

With each of Ringo’s thrusts, George felt a stronger and stronger rush of desperation. He was so close, he had to make it. He just needed to come.

As though he could read his mind, Ringo grabbed George’s cock and started stroking. “Be a good boy. Come for me. And once you come, you can let your poor little bladder relax. Won’t that feel so _good_ , Georgie?”

“Yes, sir!” George cried out as the pleasure built up. He wanted to be a good boy. He wanted to make Ringo happy. He wanted to _piss_ , to let everything flow out of him until he was completely and utterly empty.

Ringo’s pants grew heavier, and his hand wrapped tighter around George’s cock as he came inside of George. “God, that’s it,” Ringo sighed as he rode out his orgasm. “Almost there, baby.” He took his hand off George’s dick and pushed down on his bladder. “ _Come for me_.”

George lost his damn mind. He screamed as the pleasure of his orgasm flooded him, writhing at the pressure on his bladder that he had no way to relieve. But it felt so good, _so_ good—and then suddenly it felt even better. It wasn’t until he felt the liquid pooling below him that he realized his orgasm had ended and something else had started.

And it was ruining the bed.

Whining, George grabbed the nearest article of clothing and clutched it to his crotch, trying to keep as much of his piss from hitting the bed as possible. But after only a few seconds the shirt was soaked through and started dripping onto the bed again. George was powerless to stop it.

So he gave up trying. He relaxed further, blushing furiously as the sound of his stream grew louder and the bed became wetter beneath him. It felt so damn good. He went completely limp as he pushed the last few spurts out, savoring the feeling of being empty.

After a few more moments of bliss, the reality of the situation hit him. He had just pissed himself, right after coming. On his bed. With his boyfriend still on top of him. And that was definitely Ringo’s sopping wet shirt clutched against his crotch.

George nervously looked at Ringo, hoping that he wouldn’t be horrified at how far he had taken it. “I…” George began, ready to apologize.

Then he saw that Ringo was hard. Again.

“George…I’ve never been so turned on in my entire fucking life.” Ringo lurched forward and crashed their lips together. The moisture squished between them and beneath them, but Ringo showed no signs of discomfort as he grinded against him and came within minutes.

Breathlessly, Ringo rolled off of George and collapsed with his hands above his head. “Fucking hell, George. How’d you get the idea to piss all over my shirt? That was fucking brilliant!”

“I just didn’t want to wreck the bed,” George laughed.

Ringo stared at him. “Clearly you were _very_ successful,” he said sarcastically.

“Well, at least I tried,” George said, swatting him with a (thankfully dry) pillow.

They giggled a bit more before moving in for another kiss. George rolled toward Ringo to hold him properly but winced as his pee squished underneath him. “How about we continue this in the shower?”

“Yes, please.”


End file.
